


Making Time

by loki-on-mjolnir (basalganglia)



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Body Worship, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, F/M, Felching, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, is it still called felching if it's from the vagina?, not-so-hidden feminist agenda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basalganglia/pseuds/loki-on-mjolnir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Elsa have some time while they're at an event, and make the best use of it.</p><p>Inspired by the pictures taken at the Audi Polo Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Time

**Author's Note:**

> Because I [got philosophical](http://loki-on-mjolnir.tumblr.com/post/120365778503/elsa-is-so-fucking-hot-how-does-chris-not-have-a) about some photos. As arranged according to the sequence of events in this fic, the relevant ones are: [1](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2015/05/31/16/293A48E800000578-0-image-m-9_1433087514324.jpg), [2](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2015/05/31/16/293A431F00000578-0-image-a-12_1433087598776.jpg), [3](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2015/05/31/16/293A48C900000578-0-image-a-6_1433087499706.jpg), [4](http://cache4.asset-cache.net/gc/475385924-elsa-pataky-chris-hemsworth-and-emily-blunt-gettyimages.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=GkZZ8bf5zL1ZiijUmxa7Qc0b9BqxllKWy59Y1gdk72lAqe8JWfQM%2f%2fs1G6A5BBeTJiJYGaLhk3GE0pIxO6rTSg%3d%3d), [5](http://mx.hola.com/imagenes/realeza/2015053110198/guillermo-de-inglaterra-elsa-papky-polo/0-39-954/polo-e-sa-chris-1--a.jpg). 1–4 are linked at the appropriate moments within the fic, whereas 5 is to show the aftermath i.e. Elsa's cardigan and Chris' tie. (Sources: [x](http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-3104770/Chris-Hemsworth-puts-loving-display-Elsa-Pataky-Audi-Polo-event.html), [x](http://mx.hola.com/realeza/galeria/2015053110198/guillermo-de-inglaterra-elsa-papky-polo/1/) and Getty.)
> 
> You'll notice that India doesn't appear in here—that's because I feel icky about writing a kid into a fic that's 95% their parents banging. I've also ignored how things would have happened in real life, but eh, it's for the porn!

He was going to die, Chris thought as he felt [Elsa’s tit against his side](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2015/05/31/16/293A48E800000578-0-image-m-9_1433087514324.jpg). And because he was a fucking masochist, he tightened his hold on her under the pretence of showing her off to the cameras on his left, and succeeded in pressing her harder into him. Even with the protection of his sunglasses, he didn’t dare risk glancing downwards, but he imagined that the movement would make her tit spill over from the top of her dress—or maybe, the stiff fabric would separate from her skin enough that he could catch a glimpse of her nipple.

He was not the only one playing this game, however. Elsa’s shoulders tensed for half a second under his arm, then her small hand crawled from the middle of his back to somewhere lower. There were people behind them so she wouldn’t grope his arse, but oh, what she did instead was much, much worse: she dug her fingers into a place just above his belt, and somehow, she’d pinpointed the exact location of the bruise her heel had left on him that morning.

Chris laughed at nothing to hide a grunt, and he prayed that having a hand stuffed inside his jeans pocket would save him from making the headlines of every tabloid magazine in existence.

He could tell that he was going to fail miserably, however, with the way that Elsa was practically mashing her chest into his waist—but then his saviour came in the form of a blonde woman in a elegant pink dress.

But damn it, what was her name? It started with an _E_ , he was sure. Elizabeth? No, no. Emma? Oh, right— _Emily_ Blunt.

“Emily!” he called. The woman turned around, looking confused, and for a horrible moment Chris thought he’d gotten her name wrong.

Much to his relief, however, she beamed and made towards them. “Chris! How are you?”

[“Good! How ’bout you?”](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2015/05/31/16/293A431F00000578-0-image-a-12_1433087598776.jpg) Chris bent to kiss her cheek, grateful for a whiff of perfume that _didn’t_ set his blood on fire. “Have you met my wife, Elsa?”

The two women hit it off right at once. Of course, the photographers took notice immediately, and soon it was [the three of them posing together](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2015/05/31/16/293A48C900000578-0-image-a-6_1433087499706.jpg). A couple of shots later, Chris was asked if he could take off his sunglasses.

“Yes, Chris, show your eyes!” Elsa agreed.

On his other side, Emily pitched in. “With London’s weather, you never get more than ten minutes of sunlight anyway.”

Chuckling, Chris obliged. “There, better?”

He made the mistake of [turning to Elsa](http://cache4.asset-cache.net/gc/475385924-elsa-pataky-chris-hemsworth-and-emily-blunt-gettyimages.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=GkZZ8bf5zL1ZiijUmxa7Qc0b9BqxllKWy59Y1gdk72lAqe8JWfQM%2f%2fs1G6A5BBeTJiJYGaLhk3GE0pIxO6rTSg%3d%3d) for approval. It was not seeing her bright eyes and dazzling smile that was the problem, no; it was that he just couldn’t resist letting his gaze be pulled down to other parts of her.

He should have resisted.

The weight of his hand had displaced her cardigan, baring her shoulder. Worse, why did her tits have to look so prominent in that dress?—

Flashes were going off again, making it easier to tear his attention away from his wife. But because she was every bit as terrible as she was beautiful, she shifted on her feet and _made her arse rest on his thigh_.

Just as he was about to lose control, there was a new arrival that made all the photographers flock away. He was thankful for the interruption, and then Emily, too, had somewhere else to be.

“See you later,” Chris said, and he truly hoped they would. She was genuinely pleasant to be around, and Elsa seemed to really like her.

As if on cue, a young man in a black suit—an usher, Chris recognised—approached them and introduced himself. “Mr Hemsworth, my name is Leon. May I show you and your wife the way to your dressing room?”

“Yes, please.” Chris was annoyed that he acted as if Elsa didn’t exist, but now wasn’t the time to stir up anything—especially when it meant Elsa and him were about to have time alone.

As they followed behind Leon, Chris wished nothing more than for them to be back home so he could toss Elsa over his shoulder and have his way with her. But no matter; if luck was on their side, they _could_ manage something as soon Leon dropped them off.

The walk was unexpectedly short, and soon they arrived in their designated room. It was more extravagant than he would have thought, with plush chairs, a large desk and an even larger mirror in front of it. Perfect.

“Refreshments will be served in the main lawn in forty-five minutes,” Leon informed them. “Please make yourselves comfortable in the meantime. May I be of further assistance?”

“That will be all, thank you.” Chris was more than eager to have him gone.

“My pleasure. Enjoy.”

As soon as the door was shut, Chris crowded Elsa against it and forced his thigh between her legs. “Are you trying to kill me?” he growled into her ear.

“I don’t— _ah_ —know what you’re talking about.”

When he cupped his hand under her jaw, she offered no resistance and let him push her head to the side. Chris took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of her perfume, then proceeded to press open-mouthed kisses along her neck. She tensed for a second, but relaxed as soon as she realised that he hadn’t forgotten to be cautious about his beard and teeth.

Her cardigan had slipped completely off her shoulder by now, and it drove Chris insane that she was already looking so debauched before they’d even started doing anything. His hand slid from the base of her throat down to her chest, into the valley between her full tits where he made a short stop, and then to undo the loose knot of the cardigan that sat on her ribs. Once her other shoulder was bared, Chris didn’t bother to work the thing all the way off; he preferred to explore the newly exposed skin with his mouth. Elsa took over to remove it instead, and he mourned briefly—he’d rather liked the way her arms were trapped, though he supposed that would have stretched the delicate yarn beyond repair—and then he rejoiced because her hands immediately flew to the front of his jeans.

Of the two of them, she had always been the more practical one.

Unwilling to fall behind, he searched at the back of her dress for the zipper and—aha!—managed to get it undone in one smooth slide. Crouching down, he pulled at the bodice to reveal her breasts and cupped them with his palms. Two pregnancies and the months of breast-pumping hadn’t entirely been kind to her, but the changes in her body only made him love her fiercer and fiercer every day. And he always, _always_ took extra care to show her that.

He squeezed at her gently, circled her dark nipples with his tongue and followed by teasing them with his teeth. Above him, she moaned and that encouraged him to redouble his efforts. Keeping in mind what would be covered by her clothes and what wouldn’t, he lifted her tits to get at the undersides, covering them with bites and bruises. He repeated the same to the outsides, where she was the most sensitive, and earned himself a string of curses in Spanish.

Elsa didn’t let him continue for long. “Table, now,” she commanded.

At once, he rose up and hefted her legs around his waist, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders. This much-performed routine of theirs usually included a satisfying kiss as well, but not now; he couldn’t afford ruining her makeup. He settled for pressing their foreheads together as he navigated them within the small room, all the while telling her, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Destination reached, he spun her around so she was facing the mirror. He met her eyes and asked, “Do you want me to take off your dress?”

“No.”

 _Brilliant_. He flipped up the skirt with one hand, reaching under it with another, eager to discover how soaked her underwear was—and found that she was wearing absolutely _nothing_ underneath.

“Fuck,” he groaned. His fingers were coated in slick and he’d barely touched her. “You’re so fucking _wet_.”

“ _Tonto del culo_ ,” she swore at him. “Stop talking and fuck me!”

Somehow, it sent a thrill up his spine every time she called him a dumb arse, and he was more than ready to do was he was told. After pushing down his jeans and boxer briefs, he spread his legs so he could properly line himself up, and watched her in the mirror as he entered her.

Elsa’s face was a picture of unadulterated bliss, and it only grew ever more intense. Chris wrapped his arms around her, steadying her body so that he could thrust harder—after three kids, she no longer needed him to ease her into it; in fact, sometimes she liked it even more if he _didn’t_ hold himself back and was more rough with her. This should certainly be one of those times, Chris decided, so he picked up his pace and started _pounding_.

She was so warm and wet inside, and he could almost lose himself in how good she felt—outside the room, though, people were milling about and he was acutely aware of where they were. It both excited and worried him, the possibility of getting caught. He had to bury his mouth into her shoulder to muffle his grunts, and he counted themselves lucky that his shirttails dampened the slapping of his hips against her arse. Elsa, on the other hand, had always been relatively quiet, and the closer she got, the fewer sounds she made.

She was completely silent now, and her brows were drawn so tight together that Chris knew she couldn’t be far away from coming. All she needed was a little push, and Chris took it upon himself to give her that. Reaching between her legs, careful to get her dress out of the way so that he wouldn’t rumple or soil it, he found her clit with practiced ease.

“Come on, babe,” he coaxed, licking into the shell of her ear. “Give it to me.”

He rubbed at her hard and fast, a combination that never failed to drive her over the edge—as he’d expected, it was less than a minute before he heard a shuddering gasp and felt her clenching tight around him. Seeing her come undone set off his own release; his rhythm faltered, the pumping of his hips became erratic—then he bit into the meat of her upper arm to silence his shout as he spilled deep into her.

They stayed like that for a few moments, panting with their bodies pressed against each other until he’d grown soft and slipped out of her. Having gotten his breath back, he laid a soft kiss to the side of her neck and said told her again, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She smiled back at him, and then started fixing her dress.

Oh no, he wasn’t done yet. He turned her around, knelt on the floor and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Chris!” she gasped, but she sounded only mildly surprised and had already arranged her dress so she could look at him.

He shot her a cheeky grin and proceeded to place a playful kiss on the side of her mound, where there was a tattoo of the heart he’d drawn her on their first date. There was no doubt that the one on her left forearm meant the most, but this had always been his favourite ever since the moment she’d shown it to him—which had, coincidentally, been when he’d first seen her without clothes on.

Next, he focused on the task at hand and proceeded to lick a wide stripe along her slit, finding the taste of himself heavy on his tongue. But he’d never minded it at all; moreover, hardly anything else mattered when he could eat her out and hear her make these pleased little moans. He mouthed over the outside of her pussy, marvelling at how smooth and silky her skin was—laser, he’d learnt, was a gift from the gods. Then he directed his attentions to her inner lips, which, since the pregnancies, had gotten larger and darker and now protruded outwards. This was something she was self-conscious about, he knew, and so he made it his job to remind her of how beautiful she was.

He sucked her soft flesh into his mouth, nibbled and teased with his teeth and groaned loud enough for her to hear. When Elsa’s fingers dug into his shoulders, he wished that he didn’t have product in his hair today—he enjoyed her raking her nails over his scalp as much as she did. To make up for this, he parted her folds to caress the delicate flesh within, stiffening his tongue into a point and pushed inside her. Then he roamed his hands over her slim ankles, her shapely calves, rubbed at the sensitive backs of her knees, and when he got to her thighs, he could feel the tenseness in her muscles and knew that it was time for him to do more.

Chris reached for her clit, stroking it lightly with his thumb while he pulled back the hood with his other fingers. The effect was instant: she clamped down around his tongue, her leg coiled tightly around his back and her hips started to rock against him. He kept at it, quickening his pace until she _spasmed_ and came with a soft gasp.

He eased off the pressure on her clit—she was seldom fond of being overstimulated—but didn’t stop licking into her. The squeezing of her cunt had made more of his come leak out of her, and being ever the dutiful husband, he cleaned up after his own mess. A short while later, when he could taste more of her than himself, Chris moved upwards and took her clit between his lips, drawing a few moans from her when he swirled his tongue round it. Then he inserted two fingers into her, changing to lapping at her back to front, side to side, while his free hand gripped the side of her pelvis to steady them both. Gradually, he worked it up until he was flicking his tongue over her as rapidly as he could, and he flexed his fingers to rub against the front of her walls. _That_ made her cry out loud, and so he pumped his fingers faster, fucked her harder—

“ _Chris_!” She clenched around him, but this time, he didn’t stop, taking her right through it and only slowing down when she was whimpering and squirming in his grasp.

After he’d withdrawn his fingers and licked all over her one last time, Elsa tugged on his tie to make him stand. She chuckled at him, no doubt at the wetness covering his entire face, and just for the sake of it, he made a dramatic performance of sucking on his fingers and savouring the taste of her juices.

She swatted at his chest. “ _Tonto del culo_ ,” she said again, but this time with more fondness, and softened her words with a peck on his lips. He chased for one more after she pulled away. “Come on, we have to go or it will be over by the time we get there.”

“Probably, yeah.”

He helped her with her dress, and checked that her cardigan covered all that needed to be hidden. Then as he tucked himself back into place and wiped dry his face with some tissues, she quickly fixed her makeup and emerged as fresh as if the last hour hadn’t happened at all.

“Ready?” he asked, standing behind her and circling her waist with his arms.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

And because he could never say it enough, he told her again, “I love you.”

She blew him a kiss through the mirror and gave him a smile that made him dizzy. “I love you too.”

When she picked up her clutch and led him out of the room, Chris decided that they should have impromptu sex more often—it was definitely one of the best ways to spend some free time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you think: what you liked, what I can improve on, anything! My ask box is always open on Tumblr and you can come find [me](http://loki-on-mjolnir.tumblr.com) there too. (I'm also planning a fic giveaway; follow me so you won't miss it!)
> 
> Lastly, if you've liked this and would like to share it on Tumblr, I'd really appreciate it if you could reblog [this post](http://loki-on-mjolnir.tumblr.com/post/120792081958/making-time-chris-hemsworth-elsa-pataky). Thank you!


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